


Radio Waves and Erlenmeyer Flasks

by the_Dark_Weird_Way7



Series: Fem!Cecilos [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, Freeform, Night Vale Fem!AU, Night Vale retold from female perspectives, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Rule 63, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, blood and slight gore, human carla, inhuman cecile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2112594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_Dark_Weird_Way7/pseuds/the_Dark_Weird_Way7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carla is a young female scientist fresh out of college. Cecile Palmer is the young Voice of Night Vale Community Radio. Their lives intertwine when Carla is sent on a mission to study the strange goings on in the friendly desert town with a team of scientists at her side. This is their story. Welcome to Night Vale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radio Waves and Erlenmeyer Flasks

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on behalf of: cecile-palmer-blog.tumblr.com
> 
> Music Chapter Was Written To:  
> "The Weather" by Adam Warrock  
> "Frank Sinatra" by Cake  
> "Keep It Healthy" by Warpaint  
> "Sing Sing" by The Bones of Jr. Jones  
> "Sober" by Childish Gambino

Carla the Scientist

Let me make it clear that up until recently, I was not remotely interested in weird towns in the middle of nowhere. I was not the kind of person to believe in ghosts, or magic, or any of that nonsense. I was a scientist, and scientists didn't go chasing after spiritual nonsense. If the heads wanted someone to investigate floating tables or sudden bumps in the night, that crappy reality show _Dark Forces_ was looking for episode ideas.

Oh, there were many stories about Night Vale circulating the University labs. Veteran scientists who'd been assigned to the town and only lasted a week before they packed their equipment and hauled ass out of there sat in break stations during lunch and told stories of how it was this strange place in the middle of a vast desert where monsters lurked everywhere, and dying a horrific death is as common as catching the bus. There were weird radio reports hosted by this woman with a hypnotizing voice who played music during the weather segment instead of the actual weather and used mind control to ensnare the residents in loyalty to the local government. Speaking of, the government was like something out of Orson Wells novel, and there was a Sheriff's Secret Police that supposedly watched and recorded everyone's every movement. There was an entire book listing the various items that were banned in Night Vale (books, ironically, being one of them). Usually, everyone and their mother would crowd around the pot-bellied old men in their white lab coats and trimmed beards, and listen as they spun a yarn of their marvelous (yet short) adventures in the desert town.

Some of that nonsense had even spread to the student body. Every now and then, a bold young freshman would raise their hand and ask if the stories were true, receiving 15 page reports on the distinction between reality and fantasy and what dictates existence. There were some students who believed that Night Vale wasn't actually a place, but a sort of purgatory where those trapped in comas would have to choose whether or not to die. Then there were others who stated that Night Vale was all a collective illusion created through mental illness and hallucinogenic substances. And of course, the philosophy majors mused that maybe it wasn't really a place, but a feeling, and it was a symbol of the madness within all of us and blah blah blah. 

We really needed to find out what the philosophy department was smoking.

I did _not_ like listening to these stories. In my opinion, they were nothing but a bunch of fantastic tales woven by golden threads of pure bullshit. Even though none of the stories were grounded in scientific truth, no one else really seemed to mind them. They all thought it was some cool verbal anthology of ghost stories they could rehash at bars and parties. Which was fine. I mean, I didn't care that they liked the stories. People can like whatever they want, right? But as a scientist, it really bothered me that they took it completely seriously, and followed the stories like religious lessons in mass. Nobody else bothered to question this town's existence--despite it not being on any map of the United States or having zero search results on Google. This place, for all we knew, could have been made up as some kind of character evaluation. Weed out the lazy slackers who abandoned their work trying to find a cure for cancer to hear a bunch of crap stories.

It wasn't until Dr. Kayali called me into her personal office that June that I bothered to reconsider my position on Night Vale (what kind of name is that anyway?) and the strange things there. Until then, it was just a mild irritation sparked by four or five other scientists abandoning me in the middle of a massive chemical spill.

The middle-aged woman in the maroon pantsuit smiled at me behind a large oak desk piled high with knick-knacks, papers, and family photos. She encouraged me to sit, and I obliged, my stomach twisting (metaphorically speaking) in knots with anxiety. Why had she called _me_? Was I being fired? Was I--I didn't dare to think it for fear of jinxing the possibility--being promoted?

Dr. Kayali smiled politely and, noticing my nervous posture, said, "Carla, please relax. You're not in trouble here."

I let out a relieved sigh and forced a small smile in return, though my nerves still jumped. Part of me wanted to laugh, because Kayali sounded just like my middle school principle after I accidentally set fire to my classmate's lab coat in eighth grade science class. _You're not in trouble, Carla. It was an accident, and Tommy's perfectly fine. No burns past the first degree!_

"Do you have any idea why you're here?" she asked, her eyes locking with mine. I could tell she was going to be weighing my responses very carefully. But for what?

"Well, ma'am, if I had any guess, I'd say you're going to give me a dazzling promotion with a salary large enough to pay off my student loans." Funny. People liked funny. Funny could be advantageous.

Dr. Kayali chuckled. "You have a sense of humor. That's good."

See?

"You'll need it when you're out on your first assignment."

Whoa. "Assignment?" I asked, completely puzzled. That didn't sound right. Only top-ranking scientists with tenure were given assignments. Assignments meant field work, discoveries, and free rent for a year or so in a foreign place.

She nodded. "I see you'd like some elaboration."

Obviously.

She rose from her desk and walked over to the wall of family portraits and certificates. She clasped her hands behind her back and continued. "I understand you've heard those stories about Night Vale, correct?"

Damn. Too good to be true.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You've heard about all the scientific oddities plaguing the town?"

"Yes, ma'am." Jesus, who hadn't?

"Good. Then, you know where I'm going with this."

"Not really," I replied frankly.

She sighed. "Smith, Meyers, and Jordan are good at what they do. I sent them to Night Vale a year ago after catching a few snippets of information from people who'd previously lived in the town. I thought they'd be able to handle it. I thought they'd be able to stick it out and do some real research. But they didn't. Now all we have are a handful of fanciful tales and a burning curiosity." She turned around again, her face a mask of stone. "I want to know as much as possible about that place, Carla. But in order to do that, I need another team to go out there. A team that's capable of withstanding the horrors of that town."

"So you want me to go to Night Vale with a bunch of other scientists?"

She grinned. "Not just that. I want you to _lead_ a bunch of other scientists into Night Vale. I want you to lead the investigation, and see that we get answers."

I was stumped. Me, go out in the field? "But I'm only a recent graduate, ma'am. How could I lead something like this?"

"Carla, you are the most qualified person in this entire university to do this. You're young, yes. But you already prove yourself quite the scientist. You're level-headed, you focus on logic instead of superstition, and you're incredibly intelligent. Graduated top of the class, if I have it right?"

My face burned. Kayali was buttering me up like one of Abuela's homemade rolls, and it was working. "Yes, ma'am. But I still don't understand something."

"What's that?"

"Those stories... I thought they were false."

She shook her head. "Oh they're far from false, Carla."

"But those people," I continued, treading lightly so as not to offend Dr. Kayali, "and with all due respect, those scientists could be pulling everyone's leg. Those men you sent, they leave for a week, come back, tell a few fairy tales, and they're suddenly the buzz of the University. One of them is trying to get a book deal, for Christ's sake!" _Reel it in, old girl. You're traveling on a dangerous road._ "What I mean is, how can you really determine the town's authenticity?"

Dr. Kayali eyed me carefully, completely expressionless. It was the reading stare again. After a couple moments, she said, "You should've seen the faces of those people. When they talked about that town... they changed. They grew distant, fearful, and refused to make eye contact with anyone. They're either Oscar-worthy performers, or they are telling the truth. I prefer to explore the latter theory."

Oh wonderful. _You're such a great scientist, Carla. Let's send you to this middle of nowhere desert wasteland where you can fry your brains out in the sun and become permanently traumatized by god knows what! Sure! I've always wanted to know what it's like to live with PTSD!_

"Your team will be here on Monday, and you have until then to sort out your affairs and pack. Greta, my secretary, will give you the full details on your way out."

"What about my classes? Don't I get a choice in this?"

"Of course you do, my dear. But I know you, and I know you're going to say yes."

I frowned. "And how do you know that?"

She chuckled once more, and replied, "Because I see a lot of myself in you, and neither one of us can resist a good mystery."

God damn it if that woman wasn't right.

**~~~**

Abuela was not happy about my leaving.

She hated the thought of me out on my own in some desert without her there to look out for me (despite being 89 years old, Abuela was actually an assassin with a pocketbook). She did everything in her power to stop me. She unpacked the clothes I set in my duffel bag, first. Then, there was the silent treatment. After that didn't work, she brought down the hard threats and guilt trips from hell. She said if I accepted that job, she would ship my little ass back to Mexico, and make my aunts and uncles watch over me until I got some sense in my damn _cabeza_. Then she threatened to disown me for abandoning all the hard work I put in to get where I am today-- _So many sacrifices we had to make for you to be a scientist! No lights or gas for a month so we could pay for books!_ \--and stated quite clearly that there was no f*^%&ng way she was letting me chase empty scientific promises half-way across the country.

And that was all just because I told her I was going to another part of the United States! As old school superstitious as Abuela is, I hate to think what she would've done if I'd ever told her the stories about Night Vale. She'd probably have me at Mass talking to a bunch of priests while rosemary smoke and ashes billowed around my head.

Originally, I'd dismissed the job as demeaning. Wild goose chases were intended for gullible half-wits, not scientists. But the more I read into the file Dr. Kayali's secretary gave me as I left her office, I admit the more I grew interested. Sure, there were still areas of the job I thought were ridiculous, like the purple grass (obviously someone was pouring dye into the soil) and the swollen population of vultures (it's a desert, vultures are kind of a thing), but everything else described sounded like scientific breakthroughs. If I could get to the bottom of the things in this town, I could make a name for myself, and hopefully, help the residents in any way possible. I could save lives and do some good for the world, the exact reason I wanted to be a scientist in the first place!

Though I fully comprehend that made me an impossibly huge hypocrite, I took the job, and I argued with Abuela with everything I had.

It was a long and arduous battle fought between grandmother and granddaughter that lasted from Thursday night to Saturday morning over breakfast, but I finally managed to convince her I was a twenty-five year old woman who knew how to take care of myself, and added with a bit of affectionate flattery, that I could handle anything because such a brilliant and headstrong woman from the poorer part of Guadalajara raised me. Abuela whacked me on the shoulder with her newspaper, but smiled and remarked, "If there's one thing I'm not going to miss, it's that smart ass mouth of yours, _nieta_.

With Abuela's blessing and the reassurance that she'd be okay living on my bonus for a while, with constant visits from my brothers to keep her company, I set off on Monday morning to meet the team I would be working with for the next year. There were four men, five women, one genderfluid scientist named Mickey who currently wished to be identified with female pronouns, and one agender scientist named Doe who preferred being identified with "they" and "them."

A tall, corpulent man with thinning hair and stubble on his neck leaned against a large gray van, glaring at his surroundings. His name tag said Bill Everett, location: Portland, Maine. As I approached, Bill turned his evil eye on me and snarled, "Hey, you know when our boss is supposed to show up? We gotta get going and if that son of a bitch messes up our schedule..." He didn't continue. He just scrutinizes my ID badge with a grunt.

One of the men--a small, timid looking specimen from Kansas City, Kansas--nodded in my direction and said, "Bill, that _is_ our boss."

"No," he replied, "our boss's name is Carl. A man. Not some little girl."

I put my hands on my hips and gave old Billy a glacial stare. "Mr. Everett, if you have a problem with the leadership put in place, perhaps you'd like to take it up with Dr. Kayali. For now, we really must be on our way. The _little girl_ including." Abuela would be so proud of me.

The man's face turned a dark shade of red, and he mumbled something about driving and could somebody program the damn directions in the GPS?

Three of the women smiled at me as I climbed into the back of the van, but Mickey gave me a low five.

"I'm glad you said something before I could," she whispered in my ear. "This guy's a notorious asshole, and he needs someone to show him what's up."

I smiled, and kept my eyes out the window. Onward our van traveled across the United States to a town somewhere in the middle of the desert. Onward we traveled to Night Vale.

I rubbed the atomic structure tattoo on my left wrist absently. Part of me wondered if I said yes to quickly. I spent the past month hating those stories and damning that town, and now, here I was going to study it with a group of people I don't know.

What lay in wait there?

What scientific mysteries will be explored first?

Whatever it was, I hoped it was pleasant. Or at least, not life-threatening.

*********

Cecile G. Palmer

Green light.

That was all I could see behind my eyelids.

I opened my eyes and groaned. The stupid ceiling was glowing green. The lady upstairs, Mrs. Batey, was performing dark rituals again. I took the high heel lying at the foot of the bed and tossed it at the green light. It hit the target with a loud thump and fell back to the floor, hissing irritably before falling over and becoming inanimate again.

"It's two a.m. Can't you summon your otherworldly entities in the daytime like everyone else?" I shouted at the neighbor above me.

Upstairs, Mrs. Batey screeched. In the kitchen, a couple plates flew out of the cupboard and smashed into the wall. Guess that would be a no.

"Honestly," I shouted again, "there's no need to be so rude!"

I really should talk to the landlord about that.

Too irritated by the glowing ceiling to go back to sleep, I got out of bed and went to the window, Earl Harlan's old _Scoutz Fr Lyfe!_ T-shirt fluttering slightly in the open window's breeze. Night Vale was quiet tonight. Not even the crickets dared to make a sound, though that was mostly because of the city council's recent ban on cricket chirping after 2 a.m. ("because it's so annoying and rude"). It was peaceful.

And boring.

Don't get me wrong, I love Night Vale, and everything and everyone in it (with a few exceptions here and there). It's my home, and while it does have its flaws and horrors and atrocities, it is still my home, and it is perfect.

No, not perfect. Perfection isn't real.

But it certainly is great, in its own unique way.

I just wished there was something new, something unusual in the bland desert town to shake things up. Near disasters are fun and all, but they do tend to get boring to report on.

A cool gust of wind swept through the open window and circled the room. My tattoos, the inky black and purple tentacles and eyes, began to glow a deep violet in the cold night air. The large eye tattoo in the center of my forehead opened, unveiling the real eye which usually only opened to check the town for updates on news stories. I could see something in my mind, something not Night Valean.

_A desert at midday. A large van speeding along a dusty road. Heat waves rise from the ancient asphalt. A man drives with an irritable scowl on his face as he shoots quick glances at the person in the passenger seat. A woman. Curly black hair whips madly as wind blows in from the rolled down window. Full, Cupid's bow lips suck on a chipped fingernail, nervous. Dark brown eyes stare out at the desert around them. She studies the sand, the cacti, the blue sky and burning sun. She lets her arm dangle out the window, making waves in the wind with her smooth, dark hands. On her wrist is a small tattoo of an atomic structure, like you'd see in a municipally approved science textbook. She wears a lab coat... And she is beautiful._

The vision pulled away before I could get a closer look at the woman's face. I sank to the edge of the bed, dizzy and ready to pass out. Well that was certainly new. Visions of the town were one thing, but anything outside of Night Vale? Who was that woman? What relevance did she have?

My brain throbbed. On second thought, maybe that glowing ceiling couldn't keep me up all night after all. I crawled back into bed and turned to face the window. The town was still beautiful, even from here. Mysterious lights passed over the next four apartment buildings before disappearing again in the Void. I'd have to remember that for tomorrow's show.

    *********

Carla the Scientist

According to the map, we were getting close. We'd been driving the past three days to get to this god forsaken desert, and weird phenomenon aside, we were ready to get to Night Vale. At least there we could get out of the van and shower in our new apartment/lab headquarters. The van smelled like aged sweat and rotting food, and the faster we escaped, the better.

"How much further?" Bill grunted impatiently, keeping his constantly glaring eyes on the road outstretched before us. He still wasn't too happy with the idea of a woman leading the team of scientists. He'd stated quite clearly that science was a man's field, and women simply weren't meant for leadership. And when he found the outraged responses from the women in the van to be too much, he'd decided the safest way to go would be to question my credentials. How competent was I really? I'd never been out before on an assignment. I didn't know what I was doing. Fewer members of the team spoke up on my behalf (gee, guys, your loyalty moves me), though I suppose he did have a point. I had never been out on my own before, so I was pretty much stumbling in the dark. But I was a quick learner. I had pretty good instinct. I was fairly certain I could prevent catastrophe, or at least, stay longer than the previous scientists before us.

"It's another mile up the road. Just over this next hill," I replied, rubbing the atomic structure tattoo on my wrist one last time for comfort. Another mile closer. We'd be there soon enough. We just needed to get up and over this hill, and we'd be able to see the city.

Our van sputtered up the tremendous hill and halted at the top. Bill growled and jerked his head at me. "I thought you said it was over this hill!"

I stared in disbelief at the flat sand below and onward. There was no city. No signs. Not even a road anymore. Just sand. "I don't understand. We followed the map's directions perfectly. We didn't make any unnecessary turns, and we kept going straight. How is it not here?!"

Bill barked a harsh laugh. "See? I told you! Unqualified to lead a team of scientists! I told you all, didn't I? Now this little girl's got us lost in the desert!"

I racked my brains, trying desperately to come up with a solution.

 _Forward_ , a voice whispered in my ear. The voice was low and seductive, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Keep driving. Maybe we'll find something."

"I'm not driving shit!" he bit fiercely. "You got us lost. I'm turning around."

_Don't let him turn around. Keep moving._

"No! I'm the team's leader, and what I say goes. And I say _drive forward. Now!_ " My stomach clenched, waiting for his response. Bill was a big man, and I already knew I couldn't take him in a fight. What would happen if he decided to go rogue, and turn around anyway? What then?

One of the other male scientists tapped on the driver's seat. "Come on, man, do as she says. Maybe Washburn got the directions wrong. Just drive on. We're getting paid anyway, so what does it matter if we keep moving for a little while?"

Old Bill's hands were clutching the steering wheel like it were a weapon. His knuckles were starting to turn a bleached white. Through gritted teeth, he mumbled, "Fine. We'll keep going forward. But if we don't reach anything by tomorrow morning, I'm turning this fucking metal coffin around and we're all going home. I don't care what the senorita thinks."

Bitter words, but nevertheless a surrender. I could deal with that.

We drove down the hill and through the sand, straining our eyes to see some sign of life in this empty desert. As odd and scientifically improbable as it sounds, I swear the sun was descending a lot faster the farther we moved through the sand. In the sky, ominous black clouds started to knit together to form one large blanket of doom above us. Were there many storms in the desert? I wasn't so sure. A few miles out from our van, a jagged line of lightning cut across the sky. Another struck after that, making contact with the ground.

"Maybe we _should_ turn back?" Rochelle from Minneapolis asked from the back, her voice breaking. She sounded scared.

"No," I replied firmly. "We need to keep going." I couldn't explain it to the others, but there was something--not just the voice, but a gut feeling--drawing me ahead. Somewhere up this road (wherever the road was under all this sand) was Night Vale. I just _knew_ it!

A flash of lightning struck the ground, noticeably closer to our vehicle.

"Um, boss," Mickey said nervously, "I may disagree with Bill on a lot of things, but I think he might be right here. Maybe the directions were wrong. Let's at least pull over and--"

"No!" I shouted. "We have to keep going forward! Trust me on this!"

Another strike hit the sand, only this time, it was yards away.

"Listen here, girl!" Bill snarled, his hands struggling to keep control of the wheel. "You're going to get us killed over some feeling you got! Let's stop here until the storm passes."

But stopping didn't seem like an option anymore. The farther we moved, the stronger the wind became. Our van was rocking with its force. If we pulled over, we were sure to roll under the mercy of the wind. We had to keep driving. We had to fight the storm.

Lightning hit near the side of the car, forcing Bill to jerk the wheel. Now I was really scared. Were we even going to make it? Was he right? Was I going to lead everyone to their deaths because of some gut feeling? My thoughts were interrupted by the radio as it came to life on its own. Static filled the musty air, completely blocking out Joy's whimpering behind my seat. Through the heavy static, I could catch a few voices, one high pitched and bubbly and one low and serious. The higher pitched voiced mumbled something about a Desert Bluffs, and the other... There was a high pitched whine that made us all cover our ears. I looked up just in time to see the jagged lightning bolt hitting the sand directly in front of us and the blinding light of it as we collided with it.

The world went solid white and then totally dark. The last thing I heard was the collected scream of my fellow scientists as we crashed.

**~~~**

_The sky was blue and endless. Floating just slightly in my peripheral vision was a stray cloud. It looked as if it might dissipate soon. Poor thing._

"Carla!" a familiar voice called out from somewhere far away. I blinked and sat up, carefully shaking the sand from my hair. Mickey waved at me from the side of our van, which was surprisingly unharmed. The other scientists were gathering their tools and bags from the car, clearly shaken, but otherwise alive.

How had we survived? _Did we survive?_ I put two fingers to my neck. No, I had a pulse. Definitely not dead, then. The road had returned, and instead of endless hills of sand, there were cacti and other plants scattered through the area.

I stood up, marveling at the lack of injuries on my body. Not even a stiffness in the joints! How could someone get into a car accident, but have no evidence of a car accident? I made my way over to the van with everyone else, my head spinning. I almost didn't notice the looks of fear and contempt my team was giving me, save Mickey who just seemed relieved to be alive. 

It was Bill who spoke for the group. Surprisingly, he wasn't angry. He was shocked. "How did you know?" he asked in a shaking voice.

"How did I know what?" I replied, genuinely confused.

"Come off it! How did you know to keep going forward?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Something just told me to."

He grunted. "Well whatever told you to was...right, I guess. Look." He pointed a little up the road to a large wooden sign reading:

**Welcome to Night Vale**

**Population _____** _ **_?**

**The last place you'll ever want to leave.**

"We made it?" I asked incredulously. "We actually made it?"

Mickey clapped me on the back. "Girl, I had total faith in you the whole time."

"Yeah, right," Rochelle snorted. "You doubted her just as much as the rest of us."

"Whatever," Mickey shrugged. "That was just the fear talking. Deep down, I knew she was right."

"Well, whatever you believed or didn't believe, we need to hurry up and get to walking," Bill said.

"What's wrong with the van?" I inquired.

"The engine's completely dead. Turn the key, you don't get anything. I checked under the hood, and everything's frizzed out. Wires are blown to hell. Parts are missing. I don't know what the hell happened to it."

"I guess the stories are true, then," Michelle muttered, her eyes locked with the dirt beneath her feet. "Night Vale weirdness."

"I suppose so," I caved. "But Bill's right. We need to get to town. If everyone has everything, we can get going."

Dan from Pensacola tossed me my duffel bag, and we all trudged up the road together, myself leading the way. I gave a quick glance to the welcome sign as we passed, wondering why the population count was absent. But then, the sign was old and not kept in good shape. It was possible the painted on numbers chipped away over the years, and no one bothered to come paint them back on. The sun glared down on us mercilessly as we all walked to town. In a matter of minutes, my mouth and throat was drier than the sand of the desert itself. The first thing I planned to do when we got to our new lab and apartments was hit up the sink for some cold water. Ice cold water sounded like a dream, a sweet dream that was just barely out of reach, and yet close enough to brush fingers against.

It was an hour before we reached the town's edge, where a middle aged man sat on his front porch in a rocking chair, eying us with complete and utter suspicion. _Outsiders._ That's all we were to him. Faceless outsiders come to his hometown with selfish intentions. I smiled at the man, asking in the friendliest, most nonthreatening tone I could muster with a dry throat, "Hello, sir? Is there a mechanic in town? Our car broke down about a mile from here, and..."

"It'll be taken care of," the man responded calmly. "The city council's gonna send y'all someone to fix yer car. It'll be ready in a few days." His voice, while warm and friendly enough, still hinted at distrust. No matter how nice we were, he was going to keep his guard up, just in case.

I waved. "Thank you, sir!"

We took a few more steps before the man called out, "Y'all them scientists we been hearin' about?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

He leaned back in his rocking chair and bobbed his head. "A'ight. It's good to have y'all. But I'mma warn y'head of time. Don't push y'all's limits. People go missin', or end up dead in the desert. Y'all seem like a nice bunch of folks, and I'd hate to have to find parts of y'all in my field. Just to let you know."

"Yes, sir," I repeated. "Thank you for the warning. We'll try to play it safe."

A small, grim smile appeared on the man's thin lips. "That's what I like to hear. Most outsiders don't like to listen 'til it's too late. Then I gotta do the cleanin' up."

I didn't know what "cleaning up" entailed, and I certainly didn't want to find out. "Thank you again."

The last thing the man said before we departed was, "It's John Peters, by the way. I'm the farmer. Y'all need anything, you let me know."

"Will do, sir!"

We took off quickly up the road. If John Peters was this weird, I couldn't wait to see the other Night Vale residents.

*********

Cecile G. Palmer

I was just wrapping up my interview with Josie about her new angel friends who were ten feet tall, radiant, and extremely polite. I was just getting Intern Darren to put away the microphone and recorder when they walked into town. I say they, but really, it was _her_.

She had long, black hair that spiraled out in every direction, nearly reaching the small of her back. Her skin was beautiful and dark, a soft shade reminiscent of caramel, and it glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. Her lips were the prime example of a Cupid's bow, full and pouty, though quite dry and chapped in the desert sun. Her body was made of beautiful curves, and she had legs that stretched on forever (metaphorically speaking). She wore a long white lab coat over a pair of jeans and a button up blouse.

She was the most gorgeous woman I'd ever had the privilege to set eyes on.

My hearts pounded ferociously at the sight of her. I could feel my tattoos beginning to glow faintly. My knees started to go weak.

"Who is that?" I asked breathlessly to no one in particular.

Josie followed my gaze and grinned proudly. "Those are the scientists Erika was telling me about. They've been telling me there were visitors coming to Night Vale. I'd say that's them all right."

"Right. Really fascinating." I made a gesture to the nameless figure of beauty walking in the center of town. "But who is _she_."

Intern Darren frowned. "I think she's their leader."

"Interesting..." I mused. "I think I'm going to go say hi."

Josie's grin disappeared. A stern frown set into her aged face. "Cecilia Gershwin Palmer, what are you thinking? She may look like a nice young lady, but we still don't know why she or her friends are here. For all we know, they could be looking for someone or something to dissect and take back to wherever they're from. You could end up a museum piece, lying with your chest split open on some metal table."

"If it meant standing in her presence, that's a fate I'd gladly accept."

"Cecile!" Josie snapped.

"I'm only joking. Anyway, I'm just going to go see if I could get an interview with her. These scientists are going to be big news, and I'm sure Station Management will want me to get some information for tonight's show. You remember the last time I neglected a big story."

The old woman nodded solemnly. "We still don't know for sure how many lives were lost."

"Besides, they're interlopers. I want to know exactly what they're doing here. See if their intentions are good."

She didn't like it, but Josie eventually caved. "Alright, I suppose an interview wouldn't hurt. But if you get one sense of danger, you'd better put that old Girl Scout training to the test. Hear?"

"Got it." I grabbed the recording equipment from Intern Darren and made a dash from the empty lot near her house. I didn't even have to open my Eye to know where they were going. But first, I had to stop off at the Ralph's. If I was going to say hello, I was going to do it in the traditional Night Vale way: by showing up unexpectedly with a gift.

*****

 

Carla the Scientist

You never truly appreciate a shower until you've spent a few days locked in a metal van with a group of other odor-secreting individuals. I scrubbed layers of sand and dust off until my flesh was raw and soft again. I must have washed my hair at least four times to get the water to stop running brown.

Next time, I decided, we were traveling by aircraft if I had to build it myself.

I exited the tiny shower stall and pulled on a fresh pair of clothes. After so long, it felt so good to be in a clean outfit, since you don't really get a lot of privacy with a bunch of guys around. I unfolded a crisp white lab coat from my bag and slipped it on.

Much better.

I took a deep breath and looked around at my new room. It was small, and it, along with the rest of the building, smelled like the pizza place next door. But it wasn't too bad. I had a desk with a lamp, so I could easily work late into the night on the reports without being disturbed. I wasn't sharing with anyone, and that was a pretty big perk. As nice as a lot of the other scientists were, I still wasn't too keen on the idea of getting buddy-buddy with anyone just yet. I had a job to do, and that's what I intended to do.

No distractions.

Joy knocked twice and without waiting for my response opened the door. "Hey boss, sorry to bother you, but there's someone at the door for you. They say they're some kind of reporter and they want to know if you're willing to answer a few questions."

"They asked for me?"

"Not specifically. They just said they wanted to talk to the one with the woman with the perfect hair. I figured that must mean you."

Ha! My hair was anything but perfect.

 

"Should I tell 'em to piss off?"

I shook my head. "No. I'll talk to them."

Gotta face the public sooner or later, I thought.

Joy nodded and bounded back downstairs to tell whoever it was that I'd be down in a moment.

I checked myself in the mirror, straightening my clothes and adjusting the lab coat to look more professional. First impressions were important and if we wanted the town's cooperation, it was paramount that we looked like we knew what we were doing.

After a minute of fussing with my hair, I descended the stairs and started for the door. Joy stopped me before I reached the main hallway. She bent her head so her mouth was close to my ear, and she spoke soft enough so only I could hear. "Hey, Carla. Just want to give you a heads up. Watch out for the locals, okay? She looks pretty harmless, but you never know. She might bite your head off. Literally."  

I nodded and moved forward to answer the door.

Upon opening the door, my heart almost stopped.

Standing on the front porch was a woman. Her hair, dark and as void of light as a blackhole, was tied up in a messy bun, a few random strands of shadow falling around her heart shaped face. She wore a bright purple silk blouse and a black poodle skirt that had an eye, much like the tattoo in the center of her forehead, embroidered at the bottom right corner. Her lips was painted with a dark magenta lipstick to match her eyes (which _had_ to be color contacts). Her tan skin was decorated with an assortment of weird tattoos, mostly eyes and tentacles that wrapped around her arms and crawled up her neck. Then there were the tattoos written in some indecipherable language.

To say she looked like a goth 1950's housewife seemed like an understatement.

She smiled politely as I stood there, dumbfounded by the sight of her. She extended an ink laced hand. "Hello! I'm Cecile Palmer of Night Vale Community Radio. And you are...?"

I shook myself out of the daze and accepted her hand. "Carla. Um, just Carla. I'm a scientist."

A stupid, stupid scientist.

Her smile widened and between the parted, dark magenta lips I could see sharp, jagged teeth. She giggled. "A scientist? I've never met a scientist before."

I mentally kicked myself for gawking at her appearance. _Stop being awkward and be clever. You have to make the team look good!_

"Well I've never met a reporter before, so I guess this is an occasion for the both of us."

Smooth, Carla. Real smooth.

She let go of my hand and pulled out her phone to check the time. It looked surprisingly... normal. No bones or blood or whatever. Just a regular Android, similar to my own. I'd have to make a list of things that contradict the stories. "I have thirty minutes before I have to pick up my niece and go cover another story. So do you mind if I ask a few questions?"

_Do I invite her in? Or would that be forward? Do we stand right here? Or would that be rude?_

I shrugged. "I suppose a few questions couldn't hurt, but I really do have to get to work soon and--"

"Perfect! So Carla," she purred, "what exactly are you and your scientists doing in Night Vale?"

"Um, well, we're here to study things around town. That's what we scientists do. We study things."

_I am a complete idiot._

"Study things?" she asked, her tone edging toward suspicious. "You wouldn't happen to be aiming for human experimentation, are you?"

Human experimentation?

"What? No!"

"Cause I gotta warn you, the City Council banned that, like, a year ago. Too many human/scorpion hybrids running around town attacking men with blond hair."

"I don't--"

"And then there was that case at Jackie's Sword and Hat Emporium when Jackie was mutated into that tub of green goo."

"No, I can assure you, we don't plan on experimenting on any residents!"

"Oh," she said, though I swore I heard disappointment in her voice. "Well that's good. I wouldn't want to consent to any tampering of DNA anyway. That's sixth date business."

"Sixth date...?"

"Anyway, I'm rambling! I also wanted to know--" Her phone buzzed urgently from the pocket of her skirt. "Oh, dammit! I'm sorry. This is entirely unorthodox." She pulled the phone from her pocket, and the screen illuminated. Her eyes rapidly scanned the contents of the text, and she frowned. "They changed the time _again!_ "

"They?" I asked.

"I'm so sorry, Carla," she replied sadly. "I assumed we would have more time to do this, but my interview for the new Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area has been pushed back. I have to be there in twenty minutes, and that's all the way on the other side of town. We'll have to do this again at some other time."

"Wait, did you say there's a harbor and waterfront recreation area?"

She shrugged. "Seems odd to have one in a desert, I know, but it's not my place to ask those questions. I just report."

Her phone buzzed again. She checked it, and a smile broke through the exasperation. "I guess we'll be able to finish this interview tonight."

Tonight? "What are you talking about?"

"At the press conference you and the other scientists are calling in City Hall? You should be getting a message from the City Council any minute now. They're going to want you outsiders to assure the town you're friendly and let them know what your intentions are."

"Oh," I said, because that's all I _could_ say.

Cecile checked her phone again at the sudden buzz and groaned. "Alright!" she exclaimed to no one in particular. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" She rolled her eyes. "Interns. You know how they are."

I really didn't, but I didn't feel arguing against her would do any good.

She grasped my hand again quickly, saying, "It was lovely to meet you, Carla. I hope you'll be listening to my show tonight?"

I nodded, and that seemed to please her. Cecile Palmer let go of my hand and turned to hurry down the gravel laden path with her recording equipment on her back. She turned back briefly as she stepped onto the sidewalk to yell that she'd be in the second row, on the far right, in the reporters' section. I nodded again, and she was gone.

My back pocket suddenly began to ring. I answered the phone to find one new text message from a CITYCOUNCIL. **Interloper designated Carla the Scientist will be calling a press conference at 7 this afternoon. A Q &A will follow the conference, as well as a raffle. Citizens may bring snacks and bottled water. No cannibalism (mutually consenting or otherwise) will be tolerated.**

Joy came up behind me with a ribbon wrapped bottle of wine and looked out at the shrinking figure of Cecile Palmer. "What was all that about?"

My stomach churned. "It looks like we'll be introducing ourselves to the town tonight."

Joy read the text message and smiled. "Ah, don't worry, boss. I've got a good feeling about this"

My nerves would beg to differ.

**Author's Note:**

> Part Two: And I fell in love instantly... Sort Of will be up by Saturday!


End file.
